Hazy Magic
by chocolatemercury
Summary: Through an explosion of snowy feathers stands Hestia. She looks at the feathers that belonged to her former self, the one to which Harry had given the name Hedwig. This story takes place during the fifth year for specific reasons!
1. prologue

**Hazy Magic**

Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter

Summary: Hedwig is missing and a new student transfers to Hogwarts.

**A/N** This is my first fic, no flames please but constructive criticism is appreciated.

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"No," she said.

"Why not?" He asked, his brow furrowed in confusion and anger.

"Because I don't love you," Hestia replied, looking down.

"You were toying with me then! You're just a tease!" He exclaimed while shaking her.

"How dare you say that!" She yelled, "I was trying to be courteous. How am I to blame if your advances were so upfront that I was forced to speak bluntly." Hestia walked out of his grip and crossed the short space of her porch. "Good day to you, sir," Hestia said right before she closed the door.

Nigel Dunstan growled. _How dare she refuse me_, he thought, _why, she's just a little tramp!_ He vowed that he would pay her back for her refusal, if he couldn't have her, he would make sure no one else would have her either.

Later that night, at an indecent time for any decent young woman, as Hestia was, to have houseguests, especially male houseguests, Nigel Dunstan was strolling in the direction of the Halifax Manor. (Is this sentence too long?) He walked up to the side where he knew Miss Halifax slept and with a loud crack he Apparated into her bedroom.

Hestia was sleeping when a loud crack startled her into the waking world. Shocked, she rolled off her bed and onto the floor; before she could grab her wand Dunstan had already chanted a spell. Where there was sat Hestia, now there was a majestic snowy white owl. Dunstan smiled at his work and was about to place a containing spell on the momentarily stunned owl she flew away.

Dunstan cursed and searched through Hestia's room for her wand thinking that, even as an owl, she would surely come back to look for it. When she didn't find it in her own room, well, she knew where he lived; she wouldn't be able to survive alone.


	2. Feathers

**Hazy Magic**

**Feathers**

Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter

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Harry Potter was a not-so-average boy who, at the moment was living in a very average neighborhood. On this night he had opted to sleep instead of staying up late trying to do homework he was not allowed to do during the day. A snowy white owl was perched on top of her cage, her black eyes seemed to be watching him, and they appeared almost fluid, an owl mourning over misfortunes. 

Hedwig looked more human this night then she had ever had before. A strange thought flowed through the air like a breeze and Hedwig's feathers were ruffled, goosebumps. A sweet high-pitched melody played through the air and Harry rolled over in his sleep, perhaps conscience on a deeper level that something magical was happening. Hedwig blinked and fixed her intelligent gaze out the window in a pensive pose, contemplating what was happening and half-knowing what was about to take place.

"Aaaahhhhhhhhhhhh" A soft sigh filled with knowledge, wonder and incredibility. This was the time, this was it. The time she had been waiting and longing for. This was the time she had doubted, yet wished with all her heart that would come.

A rain of snow white feathers fell upon the smallest room in Number 4 Private Drive. As the soft feathers glided down gently and Harry sneezed once, the girl now standing before his bed gasped quietly and prayed that he wouldn't be awakened; a still fast asleep Harry merely scratched his nose and went on dreaming. Hestia sighed in relief and looked around, viewing the world with new eyes her vision had changed in more ways than one. She looked at her hands and feet, she wanted to look at a mirror but knew that Harry didn't have one in his room.

She looked at Harry, inexplicable tears stung her eyes. Her brave Harry, her poor little boy who was not so little anymore; how she had looked after him these years, or tried to as best she could. She looked at the mess of feathers and wanted to laugh and cry at the same time.

Hestia had to get out of there before Harry woke up. She quietly opened his trunk and looked for his wand. Sincerely hoping that she wouldn't get Harry into trouble she tried to recite an incantation that would clean up the mess of feathers (it wouldn't do any good if Harry thought his owl spontaneously combusted during the night); however, the only sound that came out was a croak. Frantic, Hestia waved the wand again, without trying to say anything hoping the mess would clean itself up anyway; she closed her eyes and waved the wand in the manor she had seen mother do, all those years ago. Squinting she looked at the scene and thanked every deity she could think of that Harry's room was back to normal.

Now for the real dirty business…

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A/N Sorry it was another short chapter, they will get longer, eventually. This one would've been longer but I wanted to leave a cliffhanger -.-;;;; as always R&R please**


	3. How To Fly

**Hazy Magic**

**How To Fly**

Disclaimer: I own not Harry Potter

**AN** I hope people like this chapter, I worked really hard on it. To those people who've read this far I'm begging you to review, this is my first fanfic and I really want to know if it's good and what I can improve on.

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Hestia clenched Harry's wand so tightly her fingernails left deep crescent marks on her palm. She looked determined. Then she collapsed onto herself; she didn't have to put up a brave front, no one was watching. 

"What to do?" She whispered into the night. She knew she had to see Dunstan and figure out what happened. He was the only one who could've undone the spell…right? She looked up at Harry's white ceiling, no answers to be found there…

Her eyes wandered around Harry's room trying to think of a way to get to Dunstan, if he even still lived in the same place. _Well I certainly can't fly there,_ she thought cynically. She stared at Harry's school trunk as she thought this. A wave of realization hit her and she crawled over to the large black trunk and looked through the items in it.

Hestia stood triumphantly with a victorious smile on her face and a Firebolt in her hands. She no longer had wings but that never stopped any wizard from flying.

Although she personally had only ridden on a broom a few times, she had seen many of the boys do it, when they were trying to impress her; and she had seen Harry play Quiditch a couple of times. Granted, she hadn't been on a broom for,well, a while (mother always said a true lady never reveals her age).

Trying to put on a brave front to improve her confidence, Hestia mounted the broom in a "side-saddle" way, as all proper ladies were taught to do if one day they were "inconvenienced" to ride a broom (Hestia always thought it was great fun although she had only been allowed on several occasions when mother's back was turned).

A small squeak escaped her lips when the broom lifted her off the ground. "Sorry Harry," she said softly, "and thank you for everything. Do not worry, I will return your broom, I know how much it means to you."

Hestia was flying through the night, the place where she grew up was not close to Little Whinging but it was not far either. Of course she knew how to get there all along; she had flown there many times before, from various different locations. She just didn't know what to expect when she finally arrived, when she really arrived, really and truly.

The place had stayed mostly the same over time. When she first came back, years after her departure she had been so scared; scared that she wouldn't be able to remember how to get there; scared that if she did get there it wouldn't be recognizable anymore, the colonial houses torn down to make way for larger than life skyscrapers.

But her old home had stayed the same, untouched by modern times, as the wizarding world tended to be. There never was reason to be scared, wizards are a stubborn race who refuse to give up old traditions; Hestia knew that, but she had never been able to escape the dread that maybe things did change and nothing could ever be the same again.

Hestia entered a room of a sombrous manor, squinting through the dimness of the main room.

"Hmph," said a voice through the darkness, "I knew you would come." Unruffled Hestia turned her gaze to the direction of the voice. It was still a very deep bass voice, although know slightly cracked with age.

"Yes," was her simple answer to his statement.

"You know, I should've done this years ago, you would have come, although you would have been suspicious of my intentions, which I'm quite sure you are now."

"I was never suspicious. I've always known exactly what you wanted."

"Of course, of course," Dunstan replied waving his hand in a jaded fashion. "But you are curious, you have always been curious, sometimes too much so."

"You act as if you were a grandfather amused by his granddaughter's trouble-making antics."

"I am now old enough to be your grandfather," Dunstan mused.

"Whose fault would that be?"

"I could've turned you back any time, but I am not so stupid to make the same mistake twice. So you stayed an owl, as punishment."

"You have matured much, back when you were younger I have no doubt I would have been put in a cage by now. I'm slightly surprised to find you acting civilly."

"I'm dead. I decided to do one good thing before it happened." The silvery form of a tall bony man pointed to a chest near Hestia. "Your wand's in there; upper drawer on the right."

Hestia grabbed her wand, as she was standing besides the window almost ready to leave, she said, "You've grown soft."

"I've always had a soft spot for you."

"And a lovely way of showing it."


	4. Getting Away

**Hazy Magic**

**Getting Away**

Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter -.-

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As Hestia once again found herself flying through the night she wondered what do next. During her brief meeting with Dunstan's ghost she had noticed that his house, although full of odd, ancient and valuable artifacts, was cold, just like him. He had died alone; it is likely that no one would even notice that he had died for a while. His house did not hold any fond memories or even any family pictures; even the Dursley's had pictures of their family around the house.

Old and alone, she pitied him, but that did not take away her hatred of him and what he had done to her. He had taken away from her all that she had known, her family, her security, her century even!

But she liked it here; she wasn't Mummy's little jewel to decorate the room with, she wasn't treated like glass, like at any moment she would fall and break into one thousand pieces. Dunstan never treated her that way, far from it.

She was shocked out of her reverie when a flock of birds flew past her. _I must think of these things at other times, they are too confusing to deal with. I must concentrate on where I'm going! …I would have never met Harry if it were not for Dunstan, Harry is a sweet boy. What will he do without me?_ What Hestia refused to think about was what _she_ would do without him.

She soared through the sky on her way back to Little Whinging reveling at the way the wind whipped her fea-hair, _I am not a bird anymore!_ She told herself with joy, she grinned but it soon became a wistful little smile, flying was such a nice experience. Riding a broom was just not the same, especially because her bum was becoming sore.

Back in Harry's room Hestia was surprised and partly relieved to find that Harry was not in his bed. He was probably out for a late night walk as he had taken to doing this summer. At least she would not walk him up, that would be a hard situation to explain.

She quickly returned his broom and wand back to their rightful places praying that Harry had never noticed they were missing and awkwardly climbed down his window.

Harry Potter was walking languidly from the park towards his summer residence, Number Four, Private Drive when he saw a figure walking from that direction. Harry squinted, nobody from his neighborhood would be out for a stroll this late. She, Harry now realized, suddenly stopped walking and Harry watched in amazement as she pulled out a stick, could it be a wand? His eyes widened in astonishment as sparks flew out of her wand, but before he could anything he had to duck out of the way of a purple double-decker bus.

Right before the bus started up again he could've sworn he heard a feminine voice call out, "I'm sorry!" But it was probably his imagination, it was almost impossible to hear something over the loud BANG of the Knight Bus. He stared at the spot the bus had been for a few seconds but quickly walked away when he saw the numerous amounts of people sticking their heads out the window, scared by the loud sound.

Stan Shunpike stared incredulously at Hestia, really noticing her for the first time since she interrupted his welcome speech.

"'Choo yellin' at?"

"Uh…" Hestia looked flustered and was trying to figure out a possible explanation as to why she had yelled at the top of her lungs, "well…didn't I…didn't I step on your foot? I'm ever so sorry about that." Stan blinked.

"Where to miss?"

Hestia had gained her composure and took out one of the few Galleons she took from Dunstan's house, she had been feeling guilty about it but she needed the money, he was a ghost, he wouldn't need it, _besides, he was the one who turned me into an owl!_ It was some compensation.

"To London."

"Eleven Sickles, firteen if you want 'ot chocolate, for fifteen you get an 'ot water bottle an' a toofbrush in any color."

"Just the ride, thank you," She said politely.

"Take that bed, I'll be back wif your change."

Hestia snuggled into bed with a sigh, she should contact Dumbledore, he would help her and he seemed to know everything. She vaguely wondered if he would remember her, it had been such a long time.

"'Ere's you're change." Stan Shunpike handed over six Sickles, "Woss you're name?"

"Hestia," she paused, unwilling to give her last name. "Would you please wake me up in London?" Hestia was not in the mood to be polite. She closed her eyes and pretended to sleep.


	5. Common Time

**Hazy Magic**

**Common Time**

Disclaimer: Harry Potter and all recognized characters belong to the talented and most deserving J.K. Rowling

**A/N** I just want to say Happy Reading, and as always comments and creative criticismare appreaciated

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"London! Yer stop miss."

Hestia was momentarily confused when she found herself awake in a bed, her head nestled under her left arm in a position she had gotten used to. _Oh,_ in an instant she remembered what had happened and where she was, and that…her head was not very comfortable in that position anymore. She opened her eyes and was greeted by the pimply face of Stan Shunpike.

"'Urry up miss! Yer stallin' the schedule."

_This thing has a schedule?_ She thought as she ungracefully stumbled out of the bus with a hurried "Thank you".

The last thing she heard before the loud BANG of the bus was Stan Shunpike's shouting of, ""Ey miss! Dontcha 'ave any bags?"

She was running her hands through her messy hair while trying to regain her composure and walked into the Leaky Cauldron. The main room was mostly dark with the remains of a fire in the hearth. The room had been empty but in less than one minute the innkeeper walked in.

"Heh, figures the minute I step out is the same you step in. Anyway, Dumbledore told me you'd be coming." He bowed to her and handed her a thick envelope.

"That man…" Hestia shook her head slowly as she took the envelope.

Tom smiled knowingly, "You'll be in room 4; the bill is already being deducted from your Gringots account. Follow me, please."

Hestia followed him upstairs to the second room on the right and walked through the door that had been opened by Tom.

"Thank you"

Tom smiled in a comforting way while closing the door, "Good night, miss."

Hestia threw herself on the bed with the contemplating finally sleeping in a proper bed (the Knight Bus did _not_ count). _Well, at least I don't have to change into my night gown since I'm, already in it…_With that thought and a small smile she fell asleep.

Hestia's eyes strained against the sunlight only for a few seconds before opening. Giggling followed her ascent out of bed; Hestia looked around for the source and found that it was herself.

"My, you're up late," A nasal voice very unlike her own came out of Hestia's reflection in the mirror, "not that I blame you. I didn't even _notice_ when you came in." The voice giggled again, a high pitched whine, "I hope you're not planning to come late _all_ the time, not enough beauty sleep ruins your complexion." It said while stroking Hestia's face in the mirror, "_And_ you missed breakfast," it continued.

Hestia grabbed her wand and pointing it to the mirror, muttered "_Silencio_" just as her reflection was about to speak again; discovering it couldn't talk Hestia found herself glaring at herself.

In the silence Hestia took the time to really gaze at her features. She really had not aged one bit but her hair; it had been an ebony color and now there were snowy white streaks through it, _just like my feathers…_In fact, they most likely were not from old age at all. Her eyes were still the darkest of brown; however her skin had also changed slightly, it was still unblemished and unwrinkled, but it had paled from dark chocolate to cinnamon.

At the reference of food her stomach growled, Hestia blushed slightly even though there was no one else in the room and her reflection smirked.

As Hestia got up she noticed a thick envelope placed at the edge of the vanity. The envelope was addressed:

Ms. H. Halifax

Room 4

Leaky Cauldron

London

Hestia knew more or less what the letter would say and held off reading it until she ate breakfast, or rather, lunch, she realized when she saw and old grandfather clock that stated it was already 12:15pm.

After a lunch of sausage and mashed potatoes (the first cooked meat she had eaten in a long time) she quickly headed up to her room to see what the letter read:

HOGWARTS SCHOOL

of WITCHCRAFT and WIZARDRY

Headmaster: Albus Dumbledore

(_Order of Merlin, First Class, Grand Sorc., Chf. Warlock,_

_Supreme Mugwamp, International Confed. of Wizards)_

Dear Ms. Halifax,

This letter is to inform you that your presence back in the wizarding world has been noticed by Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry and we will accept you back into the school to finish your education. Due to the uniqueness of your situation you will assume the role of a transfer student from the Carioca School of Witchcraft in Brazil. Please find enclosed the Gringots key to your vault and a list of all necessary books and equipment.

Term begins September 1. We await your owl no later than July 31.

Yours sincerely,

Minerva McGonagall

Minerva McGonagall,

_Deputy Headmistress_

Hestia slid a small gold key out of the envelope in awe of Dumbledore's omnipotence. She calculated that she would have to endure around twenty minutes of embarrassment while walking to Gringots, getting the gold she would need; and walking to Madam Malkin's Robes for All Occasions to buy the cloths she desperately needed; as for the robe she was presently wearing, she couldn't decide if she wanted to burn or treasure it.

Hestia was spared any great humiliation during her quick stroll from the entrance of Diagon Alley to Gringots. The alley, as usual, was bustling with activity but the people there barely glanced at her; true, she had not visited the alley in many years, and her entrance that day was not as noticeable as it had been on previous visits.

_The new generations do not notice a person's standing, _Hestia noticed, _certainly they're all much too young to remember me. Nor do they notice that I'm wearing a night gown…_Hestia chuckled when a passing witch even commented on her "vintage" Edwardian look and asked if Hestia had bought, inherited, or made her outfit.

The trip to Gringots was inconsequential and for Hestia the real fun began when she walked into Madam Malkin's Robes for All Occasions. She looked around at the variety of classical, modern and school robes and had to restrain herself from buying too many clothes, she now had a limit to how much she could spend. Hestia had never been a spoilt brat, but it is undeniable that she was indeed somewhat spoiled in her luxuries. In the end she settled for two Hogwarts robes, a few everyday robes (for the rest of her stay in Diagon Alley) and a midnight blue dress robe (just in case).

As she walked out of Madam Malkin's and down the street a pair of eyes followed her. When, unbeknownst to her, she passed by the pair of eyes she heard a soft, semi-surprised call of, "Miss Halifax!"


	6. The Seer

**Hazy Magic**

**The Seer**

Disclaimer: I was listening to "The Seeker" by the The Who, by the way, I don't own them, while writing this; along with The Who, Harry Potter is also not owned by me, get it?

**A/N** I revised and reloading this chapter because the previous one is crap, I apologize to anyone who read it. I realized it didn't make sense to anyone who doesn't live in my head, so you better appreciate the revisions! Also, I won't beg, but do please review, they boost my self-confidence and make me want to write more

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Hestia froze; she whipped around quickly, eyes wide in surprise. When she spotted the source of the call she immediately calmed. She followed the man into a dark, cool shop, a pleasant change from the heat of the street. 

"It's been awhile, Mr. Ollivander," She said coolly.

"I almost did not believe that it was really you."

"So I should have ignored you; pretended that I didn't hear you, or not know what you were talking about. Then you would have gone away?"

Mr. Ollivander chuckled lightly; Miss Halifax was a remarkable creature. "Do you need a new wand?" Mr. Ollivander was gazing casually through his stock of wands, "Or do you still own that…antique, wand of yours?"

"Luckily," Hestia replied dryly, taking out the "antique". She supposed he didn't know what else to call it; the wand had been in her family for centuries. It had been created for and was destined for her bloodline. Hestia herself had inherited it (by its means of spontaneous appearance spooking a four year old Hestia) from her great-aunt Mildridge who had died before she was born, but with whom she had always spoken to when she needed advice. She handed it cautiously to Mr. Ollivander who then closely examined it in his hands, muttering.

"Ten and three fourths inches, Hawthorn…gorgon's blood," it was a Seer wand, supposedly its master's fate would be shown to them when they first acquired it; its secrets and the secrets of its masters bound within it. He had seen only one, this same one, almost a century before. He flicked the wand and a silvery image followed by a soft high pitched echo slithered out; it would not show itself or work for him, as other wands might. Mr. Ollivander handed the wand back to Hestia in haste, but carefully. "Ah… So, it _is_ true?"

"Yes."

"I assume you've seen your…?" _Fate_, the unsaid word hung in the air collecting tension. They both knew what it really meant, death; the wand showsits masters' death, although at the time it was shown it would not appear to be so, or even appear sensible.

The comment seemed to unsettle her. Mr. Ollivander watched as several expressions crossed her face, none of which he would have expected someone as composed as she to display. He acknowledged this as a moment of weakness; so she had seen it.

Hestia decided to ignore his comment, although the answer was obvious to both of them. As she met his eyes she said coldly, "Good day Mr. Ollivander, I would appreciate it if you don't mention my reappearance."

"Of course," Mr. Ollivander replied softly. He watched her as she turned around; a patch of sunlight temporarily tore through the gloom of the store when she opened the door.


End file.
